


Before the End

by fid_gin



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:19:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fid_gin/pseuds/fid_gin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Charley are captured by vampires and put inside a cell like poor Doris's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the End

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the [Fright Night Kinkmeme](http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html?thread=393166#t393166) in response to the prompt _Peter and Charley are captured by vampires (not bit, just captured!) and put inside a cell like poor Doris's. Thankfully together. They're stripped of weapons, naturally, and really believe it's hopeless and the end is near. They'll be dead (or undead) soon. How do they spend their perceived last moments? Deep and meaningful conversation? Deep and meaningful sex? One, then the other? ;)_  
>  Bonus points: They cleverly make it out alive (and dust those vamps!).  
> Extra bonus points: They celebrate.
> 
> First posted 11/23/2011

In the first hour, they looked for a way out. Well, Charley did anyway. “Okay, dude,” he said, putting his face up to the small window in the door. “You're the vamp expert: what is it with the creepy little white rooms?”

Peter didn't answer, just sat, silent. Charley didn't like that, didn't like seeing him so quiet. So _hopeless_. Hell, even in the most dire circumstances Peter usually had some smart ass comment or inappropriate joke to lighten the mood. If even Peter had given up...

No. No no no no. They'd find a way out.

He walked the inside of the room again for what had to have been the twentieth time since they'd been thrown into it, checking for any obvious weak spots or opportunities for escape he might have missed, but there was nothing.

“Forget it, man,” Peter's voice came glumly from behind him, where he sat in his corner. “We're fucked.”

Ceasing his efforts for the moment, Charley slid down the wall to sit next to Peter. “You're giving up awfully easy. We've seen worse. They didn't even _bite_ us this time.”

“Yet,” Peter added, quietly. Charley ignored this comment, and the fact that he was almost certainly right.

“So what's so different this time?”

“Because they took my _fucking lighter_ ,” Peter answered, his voice rising to a shout on the last two words as though he was hoping the vampires presumably downstairs would hear him and take pity. “If I'm going to die they could at least let me have a fucking smoke.”

“Yeah,” Charley said, thinking that a cigarette was the last thing he'd like to have a lighter in his possession for right then, remembering Jerry going up in flames. “I think our reputations precede us.”

**

In the second hour, they talked.

“I don't know why I'm not more scared,” Charley said, thoughtfully. “Maybe I'm desensitized. Or maybe they'll just turn me and I won't care.” He looked over at Peter, gauging his reaction as he asked his next question. “Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?” Peter asked around the end of the unlit cigarette he was now chewing on.

“Getting bit. Turning.” Peter looked over at him sharply, and Charley could see the fear in his eyes, and something else. Anger?

“Yeah. It hurt,” he said after several seconds.

“Are you afraid?” Peter didn't answer for a very long time, and Charley thought maybe the other man had retreated into sulky silence again.

Finally, Peter spoke. “Not afraid,” he said, carefully. “Just disappointed.”

When it didn't look like he was going to elaborate any further, Charley pressed. “What do you mean?”

Peter took the soggy cigarette out of his mouth and studied it while he spoke. “The last year of my life's been good. Better than it was. Guess I have fucking vamps to thank for that. That's ironic.” Behind his words, what he didn't say but Charley knew: that Peter considered his life better because _he'd_ come into it a year ago, impersonating a reporter and asking how to kill a vampire. In the months since then, they'd become everything to each other – friends, lovers, and partners in the seemingly-neverending battle to eradicate the Las Vegas vampire population. “Now it's all going to end, one way or another.”

Charley swallowed against the lump in his throat; seeing Peter upset just upset _him_ in turn, more than the thought of death did. Shit, the guy was doing just fine surviving as a coward before he came along. “I'm sorry I got you into this, back then.”

Shrugging, Peter flipped the cigarette back into his mouth. “I called _you_ back, if I recall. At least, I think...I was pretty drunk that night.”

Charley smiled at the memory of that hospital, and the unexpected phone call. “Amy was so excited to meet you. She was all ' _The_ Peter Vincent?'.” He thought he saw the corner of Peter's mouth twitch at that. “And remember when we first met, when I made up that stupid article?” Peter did smile at that. “God, I thought you were such a dick.”

“I thought you were jailbait,” Peter admitted, grinning lecherously. They shared a chuckle, realizing that they'd both essentially been correct, then fell silent again. In that silence, Charley made a decision that if they were going to die soon, there was something that he needed to say.

“Look, Peter,” he started. “What you said, about the last year, it's... I...” He swallowed, nervous and a little shocked at what he was about to say, and at how true it was. “I was just gonna say that I – ”

“Stop.” All of Peter's brief mirth from a moment ago was gone again, his black-rimmed eyes deadly serious. Charley tried not to look hurt but failed, and Peter's expression softened. “Just...don't make this any harder, all right?” He tried to smile. “Loser.”

“Douchebag,” Charley answered, with great affection.

**

By the third hour they were on the floor.

It started with a quick kiss, a reassurance that they were still there, together, still breathing and hearts still beating, and progressed to them entangled in each other, all lips and teeth and grasping hands. They tried to keep quiet as pants were unzipped and pushed down just far enough, Charley on top, hips moving, nudging their cocks together with each thrust and Peter clutching at his ass, pulling him closer. Unbelievable friction and Peter licking his hand and reaching down between them, encircling them both at the same time. Peter came first with a long, low moan, his fingers curling in Charley's hair and pulling him down for another bruising kiss, once more making it impossible for him to get the words out he felt he should, felt he _needed_ to, before the end. That was okay, though – it was there and understood between them in the way Charley felt tears on his cheeks when he reached his own climax seconds later and didn't know whose they were, and in the way they held each other as they both came down.

**

After, they said their goodbyes. Either way, the two of them as they existed then wouldn't be around much longer.

“Don't let me hurt my mom, okay?” Charley said, still stretched against Peter, head pillowed on his shoulder. “If they turn me, don't let me do that.”

“No way, kid,” Peter answered, his other arm folded up under his head. “If that happens we'll get the fuck out of Vegas. Disappear. Go somewhere we don't know anyone.”

“But we'll still be vampires. Killers.” Peter didn't answer. Charley tried to imagine the two of them, united in bloodlust, hunting together, living forever. It sounded obscene and, in the face of the alternative death, disturbingly appealing.

“If they're just going to kill us,” he started to say, “I'll go fir...” He was cut off when the door opened.

“Okay, loverboys,” the pretty, scowling woman who'd thrown them in the cell several hours earlier growled. “Get up.”

They stood, zipping up and straightening clothing, ignoring their captor's amused smile as they did so. “So, what'll it be, then?” Peter asked, not needing to clarify the choices he was referring to.

“We're having some guests over,” the woman answered over her shoulder as she led them downstairs. “Sort-of a dinner party. They'll be here soon, once the sun goes down.” She didn't need to expand on what exactly would be on the menu for their _party_. Charley looked at the little slivers of fading sunlight visible through the blackened windows, and shuddered.

“Fine,” Peter said, once they'd reached the kitchen. “Fair enough. A last request, though?”

The woman and her two companions – a hulking man who looked like he could have been a football player, and a skinnier geeky boy who Charley thought he recognized from back at high school – gazed at him warily. “My lighter,” Peter said. “If we're going to die, you wouldn't begrudge the condemned one last cigarette, would you?” He held up his pack and shook it, smiling weakly.

**

Twenty minutes later they were standing outside, watching the house burn to the ground. “I can't believe they fell for it,” Charley said. “Let it never be said that your skill at bullshit isn't good for something.”

“Me, how about you?” Peter answered, batting at the arm of his jacket which had gotten singed in the sudden blaze. “Smashing apart that chair as soon as they went up in flames? Can't believe you staked them so quickly. You're getting too good at this.”

“Well,” Charley said, smirking. “A vampire on fire isn't thinking clearly. Someone told me that, once.” And without another word, he hauled Peter to him and kissed him full on the mouth, right out in the middle of the street as onlookers began to gather to watch the blaze.

“Sounds like a brilliant man,” Peter said against his lips before moving to kiss along his neck as the whine of a fire engine siren approached, making its way toward them. Charley wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, ignoring a group of little kids giggling at them from feet away.

“He's an asshole,” Charley answered. “But I love him.”


End file.
